


I Love You Better Now

by Fearlessdreamer



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M, Romance, Sad, Tragedy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-03-29
Updated: 2013-04-20
Packaged: 2017-12-06 20:40:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/739942
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fearlessdreamer/pseuds/Fearlessdreamer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Zayn Malik and Liam Payne seem to be bothered by something in their pasts. Can their relationship handle the loss they suffer?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> Hi y'all! Well, this is my first time writing a Ziam fanfic. I do not claim to own any of the characters(except the original character), although I wish it. Adult AU! Where Zayn is an art teacher and Liam is a fire-fighter.

“Get the fuck out, Liam!” He distinctly hears Harry call out. And a small part of him, the part that’s shouting the same, is well aware that he might not be able to make it out if he doesn’t stop now. But a larger part of him is just willing his legs forward across the flaming remnants of someone’s bedroom towards the other side, where the flames are dancing bright and wild. Liam halts to catch his breath and see through the dark fumes of smoke that are threatening to blind his vision completely. _Second room to the left_ , that’s what the lady had said, right? He’s hoping it’s the same one as he swiftly moves into the glaring flames. A closet lies near the window and his trained feet are quick to take him there. With a firm but gentle push, he opens the door, to reveal a small body there, beneath the pile of clothes. A sense of relief so strong washes over him that his feet go numb, and he kneels in front of the infant to retrieve the boy into his arms, bundle him up into thick blankets and carry him out.

  
As soon as they rush out of the room, the roof collapses. Liam would say they were lucky, if he didn’t already know that his luck had run out years ago. He meets Harry halfway through the hallway running in their direction. When he sees the two of them, Liam gives him the thumbs up so that he turns around and expertly leads them to the exit. Once outside, the little boy is taken out of his arms to the medical van that’s stationed a few feet away. He absently smiles at the family reunion that occurs after the boy is declared fit. And looking at them he knows that that’s exactly the reason why he loves his job as a fire-fighter.  
As he takes off his helmet, he feels a rough push at his chest, and then Harry is yelling in his face, “The fuck, Payne? Don’t you dare solo out trying to play the hero! We’ve got some rules, you know.”

  
And Liam scoffs because the only rule that he knows is that he has to give his all to save as many people as he can, but he doesn’t tell that to Harry because he knows that the other man just loves him too much to lose him. So instead he just pulls up a smile, and tousles his curly hair and whispers a soft “Sorry.”

  
Later that night, when the exhaustion of the day has taken over his senses and sleep lurks just behind his eyelids, huge brown eyes, almost the same as the boy he rescued, but so much more lively and bright, color his mind, and before he can stop himself, a soft whimper escapes his lips and warm tears flood his eyes. He turns around to bury his face in the pillow and welcomes the familiar ache in his chest that threatens to choke him, that claws at his entire being so glaringly, it would have cracked his soul, if it wasn’t already shattered to pieces.

xxx

Zayn Malik hates early mornings. He hates the way the bright light peeks in through the curtains, or how his body feels even more exhausted rather than rested, or how it means that it’s another day of pretending that everything’s alright. He grudgingly kicks off the blankets and makes his way to the bathroom. A look at the mirror reflects his once-flawless face, now masked with careless stubble, dark circles permanently etched around his eyes and his signature frown. He quickly washes his face, brushes his teeth and makes way to the kitchen to make coffee. While it brews, he takes out a Marlboro from the pack and hastily lights it. He takes in a deep swig filling the emptiness in his chest.

  
Within the next ten minutes, he manages to eat a decent breakfast consisting of leftover pizza and two cups of bitter caffeine, get dressed, ignore the two calls from Louis and head towards the school, where he’s working as an art teacher.  
“Oh no, Mr. Shitty-excuse-for–a-friend! Don’t you dare try to ignore me in person too!”

  
Zayn sighs and turns around to meet the glaring eyes of Louis. And honestly, he gets that Louis is a drama teacher and all, but can he like take it down a notch.

  
“Didn’t see your tiny self there,” Zayn retorts and turns around to continue his path.

  
Louis comes up behind him, almost running to catch up with Zayn. “Cheerful, are we today?”

  
Zayn huffs because he really doesn’t have the time or the patience for Louis’ antics this early in the day. Louis seems unperturbed though, and continues, “If this is your way of chickening out of tonight’s plan, it’s not gonna work.”

  
“What plan?” Zayn snaps, because he really has to get to class now.

  
“The one where I have fixed you up with a date.”  
Zayn stops in his tracks, his frown deepening. He remembers now, vaguely, about agreeing to Louis’ idea to “set him up” if only to shut Louis up. And really, he loves Louis for caring about him so much, but Zayn does not “need to get laid.”

  
“I just- I ca-” Zayn wiggles his brain for some excuse.

  
“Oh no! Not listening. I don’t care if you run out of hair gel,Zayn. Or if there’s a pimple on your pretty face. I’m not buying any excuse. Not today. I’ll text you the details.”He states. And then softly, “Do it for me, Zaynie. Please. And if it doesn’t go well, I promise I’ll not bother you again.”

  
And yeah, Zayn is probably gonna curse himself for this, but he nods reluctantly, anyways. Louis hugs him lightly and then bids him a see you later, while Zayn shuffles into his classroom.

  
It’s a while before the students arrive, so he just glances around the room, taking in the beautiful artworks hanging on all the walls in the room. He likes this job. He likes how the brightness of the colors dulls the ache in his heart. He likes how gracefully his mind guides his hands to fill a blank canvas with luster. And isn’t that just ironic, considering his own life is devoid of any?

xxx

The thing is, he really, really, really wants to hate Niall, but he really, really can’t. Not when he opens the door to the hotel for Zayn, nor when he seems to be made up of liveliness and optimism (which usually Zayn is disgusted with, but with Niall, it’s so genuine that he can’t help but soak in a little bit of that light), nor when he offers to walk Zayn to his apartment and holds Zayn’s hand as they stroll lazily on the sidewalk, nor when he brushes a lock of hair out of Zayn’s eyes.

  
They’re standing near the door of his apartment, and Zayn is very aware of all the alternate endings that this date could have. He makes a mental note to thank Louis (possibly without getting a smug I-told-you-so from him), because however way this ends, Zayn is glad he made an effort to humor Louis. Because Niall is a decent human being, but mostly he’s also so damn hot and how long has it been since he allowed himself to admire someone like that?

  
As if on cue, Niall leans into him, brushing his lips softly against Zayn’s. It’s a nice, warm feeling, the feel of skin on skin, and it’s been so long, that Zayn’s body reacts before his mind does, and he leans back into the kiss. Niall’s lips are slow and hesitant as if he’s tasting the waters. His tongue caresses Zayn’s lips and Zayn parts them, permitting him better access. Zayn tilts his head, and Niall buries his hands in Zayn’s hair, tugging at them. And that’s when the switch goes off.

  
He can’t do this. He just can’t. He pushes Niall back, apologizing Niall through his eyes, which he hopes the other boy reads and runs up the stairs, fumbles with the lock and shuts the door behind him. He’s breathless as he slides down the door, and holds his head in his hands. It was just a kiss, he reminds himself. He hates himself for feeling this guilty over such a trivial thing. It’s not like him at all.

  
He sighs heavily, willing the guilt to pass. He knows he’s making a big deal out of this. It’s not like he’s not allowed to have feelings for another man. A part of him rationalizes that he can’t forever torture himself like that, but another part is screaming that he deserves all this torment and more. He buries his hands into his backpocket to retrieve his pack of cigarettes, and then smokes on one, two …seven, before he rises up, his decision already made.

xxx

It’s a lazy Friday afternoon, and Liam is seated across from Harry, doing the routine paperwork, while Harry drones on about his encounter with his school crush.  
“She’s meeting me tonight at the bar, Liam. So we’ll meet her there at eight.”

  
“When did I say I was in?” Liam sighs.

  
“You don’t have to. I’m gonna drag your sulking ass there myself. I need some moral support, man!” Harry pouts.

  
And it’s crazy, because since when did Harry need anything but his dose of charm to woo anyone- girl or boy. Whatever.  
“I may have other plans” Liam shrugs.

  
“Cleaning your window panes till they reflect your moping, lonely face is not a plan, Li,” Harry rolls his eyes.  
Liam winces because that hits a little too close to home, but he agrees anyways, because this is Harry, and it’ll probably do him good to just oblige.

  
When he returns home in the evening to freshen up and leave for the bar, he almost misses the dark Porsche parked at the sidewalk. As he moves closer to the front door, he sees a silhouette of a person, seated at the porch.

  
And even in the darkness of the unlit porch, he knows who it is. He _feels_ who it is. It’s like his dormant heart has suddenly sprung to life. Its beating so hard, he’s afraid it’s going to burst out of his chest. His breath comes out in sharp gasps and somewhere in the back of his mind he registers that he should be doing something; walking towards the figure or calling out to him, but he’s too stunned to move his feet, too numb to find his voice.

  
Finally, after what seems like forever, the man looks up and meets his eyes.  
“Zayn,” Liam mumbles, stumbling forward, like their eyes meeting suddenly triggers him into motion. Zayn gets up and moves towards him too. He reaches out his hand to touch him, to feel him, to just be near him, when Zayn shoves something in his hands.

  
“I need a divorce.” Zayn whispers stiffly.  
And the heart that was burning with hope half a moment ago, crumbles to ashes without a sound.

xxx

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey you guys! The last chapter was really, really short, i know. But that was kind of a prologue. This one's slightly longer . And I just hope it lives up to the expectations, if you got any.

 

**_*Six years back*_ **

_“I never really understood the buzz about football though.” Zayn speaks softly, as he lies cuddled against Liam’s side. It’s Saturday night and they are curled up on sofa, watching the English Premier League. “I mean where’s the appeal in men in shorts running after a ball, yeah?”_

_“You never complained when I played it in high school.” Liam replies, running his hand lazily through the thick tresses of his boyfriend’s hair. Zayn leans into the touch, and Liam loves this. Loves spending this time between just the two of them, and although their friends and family tease them about being an old married couple, he wouldn’t want their relationship to be any other way. Except maybe more. He smiles as he remembers the little velvet box carefully tugged in the pocket of his favorite blue-striped shirt._

_It’s kind of fantastic. Their love story is. Two lanky teenagers, finding one another in a time of uncertainty and trepidation; the nerdy, art-lover falling for the slightly popular, good jock. The latter having no choice but to fall deeper too. Shy smiles shared in the passing, rushed kisses shared between classes, warm secrets shared in soft whispers, two hearts beating to the same rhythm, two bodies intertwining in crazed fervor, two souls uniting to become one._

_It should’ve been a little intimidating how closely and how easily they just fit together, how simply they both admitted and accepted that they didn’t want to go let go of the other for a long, long time or how effortlessly they made their relationship work even whilst they were situated four hours away in their universities, or how certainly they knew that they’d always make their way to each other after their colleges and find a good place to settle together. But it never was and will never be, he knows._

_“Oh. I loved it then for entirely different reasons” Zayn replies, lifting his head from Liam’s shoulder and leaning in to brush his lips against Liam. Liam reacts instantly, turning his face around and holding Zayn’s face in his hands. His lips hover just above Zayn’s as he slowly guides the other male to lay flat on the couch, with Liam’s body rested on him. Zayn shuffles beneath him, hoisting himself up, to cover the distance between their lips, and as much as Liam wants to oblige, he holds Zayn firmly down. He loves this, loves teasing Zayn like this, loves seeing those pink lips form a pout, loves looking into those lustful eyes reflecting his own, loves knowing that he’s the reason for it all._

_His lips linger over Zayn’s lips, his jaw, his neck, almost touching the skin there, but not quite, drawing out ragged breaths from Zayn and inflicting goosebumps wherever his warm breath meets chocolate skin. He pauses just a little below Zayn’s earlobe, licking the skin there. Zayn lets out a small groan that runs straight through Liam’s veins to his groin. Liam shudders in response, crashing his lips on Zayn’s in rushed urgency, as Zayn’s hands hastily move to Liam’s head, tugging at the short hair there. He groans and deepens the kiss, pushing his tongue, against Zayn’s slick lips, and Zayn parts them to allow him in. It’s crazy how they have done this a million times, and still their tongues dancing together sends a shiver through Liam’s whole being, clenching at his guts, making him want for more and more. Their lips move in perfect synchronization, as Liam presses his body into Zayn’s, desiring every part of their bodies to converge in._

_“Too many clothes,” Zayn mumbles, while their lips are still pressed together. Liam sits up, straddling Zayn’s hips, as he abruptly takes off his shirt, while Zayn runs his fingers over his chest, his fingers leaving a trail of goosebumps.  He then reaches to take off Zayn’s shirt, discarding it on the floor. Their naked chests meet and the feeling of skin on skin drives him a little wild, his hardness pressing into Zayn’s thighs. His lips nibble at Zayn’s skin, biting it, kissing it, licking it, marking it.  His hungry mouth leaves a trail of sloppy, wet kisses on Zayn’s chest, nipping at his nipples, then moving to his navel-lips never not touching the skin-sucking at the heart tattoo on his hips, wanting to tattoo himself there. Zayn moaning and writhing beneath him only encourages him to explore and smear every inch of his skin with his lips._

_With practiced motion, he tugs at Zayn’s jeans, pulling at the buttons and then adeptly taking the pants off, as Zayn lifts his hips in response. The boxers are thrust aside next, revealing the firmness of his length. Liam hastily discards his own pants, followed by his boxers. He touches himself, feeling the desire for Zayn in his hardness. He smashes his mouth on Zayn’s, kissing him hard, pressing into him, grinding their lengths together, the friction sending bursts of pleasure into his veins. A groan escapes his mouth and Zayn responds by biting at his lips, sucking at the bruised region, then running his tongue over it._

_Liam places a hand between their wriggling bodies, holding their lengths together, stroking them against each other in a measured rhythm. Zayn’s hands are all over his body, his fingernails digging at exactly the right spots on his neck, his shoulders, and his back. It’s a while, before Zayn starts squirming beneath him, letting him know he’s close now. Liam wraps his hand around Zayn, fondling with just the right pressure while increasing the pace. And Liam’s probably gonna have scratch marks all over his back, judging by the way Zayn’s holding on to him, but it’s all worth it when he can hear Zayn cry out his name like a chant between his ‘fuck’s and ‘love-you’s._

_And when Zayn reaches his climax, Liam kisses him fiercely, stifling his moans. He follows soon after, a warm sensation clenching at his stomach. And in the heat of passion that they are both engulfed in, with their panting breath in sync, and sweaty limbs tangled, Liam has never been more sure that he wants to spend every possible moment of his life loving this beautiful man with all the love that his beating heart allows._

***

 

“I need a divorce,” Zayn blurts out, hastily, shoving the divorce documents into Liam’s hands. He’d been contemplating this the whole week, dreading this very moment, despising it already then, hating that _he’d_ have to be the one doing this.  And damn, he had a whole speech prepared about why this is the best step, and how they’re both better off each other, away from the past that haunts them both, but it’s lost somewhere in the intensity of Liam’s gaze. Liam’s looking at him, his eyes slightly wide, lips trembling and he wants to punch Liam for doing this to him, for making him feel like he ripped his heart out, when actually he’s being the brave one.

Liam pushes the papers from his hands back into Zayn’s, before he shoulders past Zayn to reach to the front door. Zayn sighs, turning around slowly, shaking his head, wondering why he thought this was gonna be easy. Liam unlocks the front door, moving into the house, switching the lights on. Zayn hesitates for a minute or two, mulling over whether or not he should just leave the papers on the porch and get away from here. He knows that’d be the easy way out, but at the same time, he knows Liam deserves better. So he hunches his shoulders and follows after.

The moment he steps aside, he mentally punches his guts though. Because the house is exactly like he remembers it used to be, in another time, when they both were stupid enough to believe in fairy-tale endings. He glances around; the black couch is stationed in the living room, still tilted at the same angle, to get a better look at the TV. And he’s pretty sure he sees the ketch-up stain on the white carpet that had Liam throw a fit.  And it’s crazy, because this should have all been destroyed in the fire that scorched their lives, but it’s still there, while the one thing that should have been saved is-

He takes a deep breath. No. He’s not gonna go there tonight. He can’t go there. He shuts his eyes and shakes his head to steer clear his mind. When he opens his eyes, they land on a portrait across the wall and Zayn wants to yell, because fuck Liam for still being strong enough to keep it, when he himself can’t even dare to look at it. He quickly averts his gaze before his eyes can settle on the smiling, bright ones.

His heart is starting to feel the all-too-familiar emptiness that claws at his soul and demands to be felt and he knows he has to get done with this as quickly as possible, if he doesn’t wish to leave completely broken.

 Zayn gushes, the words tumbling out of his mouth in a slurred manner “Listen, I’m sorry I just showed up unexpected here. I should have probably called you first but I th-”

“Would you like some coffee?” Liam cuts in, like Zayn never spoke at all. The logical answer to that would be a firm no, given that he’s barely holding himself together, but instead he hears himself say, “Yeah...yes. Alright.”

Liam moves into the kitchen, setting up the kettle and throwing the unclean dishes into the sink. Zayn stands in the doorway, almost offering to clean the dishes just to have something to do with his hands. After a moment of just standing there awkwardly, he moves in to settle at the dining table. The familiarity of it all jabs at his chest and he tries to concentrate on the person in front of him instead of the surroundings and the memories it brings. He lets his eyes take in the sight of the man he once dared to love with all he had to give.

Liam looks muscular beneath his loose white t-shirt, but the sagging jeans give him away, making it known that he has lost more than a couple of pounds over the last few years. He turns around and Zayn can’t help but notice the worn-out features of his face, reflecting his own. The sags underneath his eyes that used to crinkle when he smiled, the creases that appear permanently etched to the forehead, the hollow cheeks, the slight stubble. He can tell Liam is trying his best to keep up the façade of how not-awkward this whole situation is and he would’ve bought it himself, had he not known Liam well enough. Because Liam’s internal conflict is barely concealed in the way that his lips have been pursed into a thin line, or how he’s blinking way too many times than is normal, or in the way his fingers are trembling around the cups he’s holding out for them.

“Sugar?” Liam asks, avoiding Zayn’s eyes, as he takes the kettle out, pouring the coffee into the blue mug that used to be Zayn’s favorite.

“No, thanks.” Zayn replies.

Liam does look at Zayn now, he’s eyebrows furrowed, his eyes questioning.

“A lot of things have changed, Liam. That shouldn’t be surprising, you know.” Zayn sighs, taking his bitter caffeine from Liam, ignoring the way that Liam’s fingers brush lightly over his, or the way that the simple touch sends shivers through him, threatening to awaken a desire long stifled.

He settles down on the dining table, while Liam takes a seat opposite him. Zayn can feel the air thickening around him, as he idly runs a finger over the brim of the cup, trying to think of a decent conversation to cut the tension around them.

“No, I don’t actually know, Zayn,” Liam whispers, his voice strained and it takes a moment for Zayn to realize that they’re still discussing Zayn’s switch to sugar-free coffee. Zayn looks up to meet Liam’s enraged eyes.

“I don’t know because you never bothered to tell me. Nor bothered to answer my calls. Nor bothered to reply to my messages.”

“Don’t.” Zayn warns him, because all he wants is for Liam to sign the fucking papers. And he gets that he should have just sent them with his lawyer instead of travelling for four hours across the country. But that would have been just cruel.

Liam doesn’t seem intend to let go though.

“Why not? It’s been almost two years, Zayn. And God knows I tried with you. I was suffering too, you know. I thought we were in this together, like we had promised we would always be. But you just shut off on me. You just cut me off. And I’ve been waiting for the past two fucking years for you to change your mind. And you show up today at my doorstep asking me for a fucking divorce. I deserve to know what the fuck made up your mind atleast.” Liam is almost yelling now, his fists clenched at his sides, his eyes glinting the angry tears that Zayn knows he’s fighting from falling.

Zayn takes a deep breath, trying to gather his thoughts, while he curses himself for the millionth time for coming here. And while he doesn’t blame Liam for being mad at him for just throwing this at him without warning, it infuriates him that Liam still likes to pretend that they can be fixed.

“Don’t you dare put this on me like you’ve never thought of it. Like I’m the one who’s crushing our relationship when I’m only doing us both a favor.” Zayn hisses.

Liam opens his mouth to protest, but Zayn holds up his hand. “I’m not gonna try and convince you to sign those damn papers. But I’m here to tell you that I’m one hundred percent sure that I want out of this marriage, if you can even call it that now. So don’t try to convince me that we can mend this. ‘Cos I’m fucking done with this!"

And with that he marches out of the kitchen and the house, pretending that he doesn’t hear the sound of shattering glass behind him.

***

 

Somewhere in the background, Liam can hear the honking, that is impatiently growing louder by the second. But he can’t make his body respond; his eyes are fixated on the crimson liquid that is oozing out of his right hand, faintly aware of the tiny shards of glass glistening in his skin. His eyes move to the coffee that has been spilled on the cracked table, a few inches away from the papers that have ability to squeeze life out of him. Now that his senses are starting to come back to him, he can feel the searing sting in his hand, can feel the burn of the hot drink where it has splashed on his skin when he crashed the cup on the table. He registers it was a stupid move, but right then, when Zayn was basically declaring that he didn’t want Liam anymore and walking away once again, and while he was barely restraining from screaming at Zayn, it seemed a sensible one, to just take it out on the coffee mug instead.

He doesn’t remember how long he’s been standing there after Zayn left; he doesn’t know how many more blows a single person can take to his heart before it refuses to beat again. He almost laughs at himself, for being hopeful as he’d watched Zayn sitting on the porch. God, he’d been so foolish to think his Zayn had come back to him after all these years; so foolish to allow his heart to feel alive again; so foolish because he’d have taken Zayn back, forgetting the last two years, just wanting to start over.

But it seems that after all these years Zayn still holds his heart and the ability to tear it apart. Divorce. The word rings in his head, a dull pain beginning to form, growing louder and louder until it becomes a stable throbbing. And all he wants is to drown away this ache, drown away this night, because he cannot deal with this.

And like the best friend that he is, Harry walks into the kitchen in that moment.

“Thought you were ditching me, you litt- What the fuck happened here?” Harry rushes to Liam’s side, his green eyes, wide.

Liam jolts, scrambling around to grab a towel and wrap around his cut hand, while Harry just stands there dumbfounded for a moment, before he grabs Liam by the shoulders.

“What happened, Liam? You look like shit.” He speaks softly.

“Zayn,” Liam mutters, and that's apparently the only cue Harry needs, because the next moment, Harry is rushing to the kitchen cabinet, retrieving the first aid kit, and working on his wounds with careful hands. Liam winces every now and again, when the tiny slices poke at and burn at his skin.

After his hand is skillfully wrapped in bandage, Harry moves to the table, cleaning the mess there, while Liam is leaning against the kitchen counter.

When it's all done, Harry says, “Listen, if you just want to call it a night..”

And while the idea is tempting because Liam suddenly feels drained of all energy, he knows for certain that sleep is a remote possibility tonight. So he pushes himself off the counter, wincing as he accidentally presses his wounded hand into it.

“No. No. I think a night out is exactly what I need right now.”

Harry nods, locking his eyes with Liam's and Liam can sense how concerned his friend is, so he manages a small smile, that he's sure Harry doesn't buy at all, but the younger boy turns around nevertheless to lead them out of the house.

This is why he loves having Harry around. Because he never presses Liam for any answers, he gives him the space that he needs, and mostly because he's the only person who Liam has opened up to about his past.

They make their way into the local bar; Harry walking in with an air of assurance, while Liam strolls behind him. It appears a lot more crowded today and the noise in the room is quite above the decibels that Liam finds comforting for his pounding head. Liam makes a beeline for the bar, ordering his vodka. Danielle is working behind the bars tonight, and she hands him his drink, throwing him a suggestive smirk that Liam thinks he's too sober to even consider.

He drowns the liquid in two large gulps, relishing in the burn as it trickles down his throat.

“Rough night, yeah?” Danielle asks him through her eyelashes, before making him another one.

Liam nods, having half a mind to just tell her how uninterested he is, but instead turns around to look for Harry. His curly-haired friend is seated at one of the tables, with a brunette and Liam remembers vaguely about Harry mentioning a date or something.

He turns around, grabbing his drink and then another and another until he feels a soft buzz settle in his head, making him numb.

***

 

He’s been in the town for the past four hours, and the fact that he’s been driving around for a while just reminds him how difficult it was to get out of this town in the first place. He’d considered going to his family home. But the occasion didn’t just seem quite right and besides, he wouldn’t know how to have a decent conversation with them without them eventually stirring the talk to Liam. He passes by the house though, where he can see the living room lights still on and he knows that it’s the customary “family time” after dinner, and he lingers there for a while, imagining his dad talking about his day and Safaa giggling at the most random times. His heart aches to just be there with them and wishes things would go back to how simple they used to be. He sees a shadow move near the window and immediately hits the accelerator. He’s already done enough damage with Liam today. He doesn’t have the courage to look into the eyes of another person who knows him inside out.

So he keeps driving around and as much as this town gives him the chills, he can’t seem to want to get away from here. He just decides to stick around for the night, checking out to see the local park, the pond with the little ducklings, the movie theatre, the market- all the places he should’ve missed if they hadn’t left him scarred.

When he arrives at the local bar, he only intends to get his ass drunk off enough to ward off the guilt that has been eating at his stomach. He’d convinced himself that he was right in walking out all those years ago. That he was only doing everyone a favor; that he was not running away, because one of them had to be out before they both destroyed each other. But looking at what they’ve come to right now, he knew there was no amount of running away that would have mend their broken lives. Yet he’d liked to live in the illusion that he was alright - not healed, never healed, but he was starting to be just fine.  But looking at Liam and the remnants of their lives, he doubted he could ever be fine again, that he’d ever be able to breathe steadily again, that he’d ever be capable of a real smile again without his eyes pricking and his chest aching, that he’d ever be able to walk past a family with a skipping, giggling, little girl with curly hair and brown eyes without his heart clenching to suffocate him.

He enters the room, making his way to the bar, his head down, avoiding looking around, lest he’s recognized. He settles on the stool next to a man who looks totally passed out. He’s waiting for his drink he ordered, when he hears a soft mumble of his name.

“Zayn?” Liam is peeking from where he’s almost sprawled out on the counter, noticeably smashed. Zayn winces when his eyes fall on the strapped-up hand. And looking at Liam like this does no good for the self-reproach that he’s been walking around with. Looking at Liam like this kills him a little inside. He can’t handle it. He pushes himself off the stool, and like so many times that he’s done before- he’s really starting to believe he’s an expert now and that’s just fucked up- he walks out. He doesn’t stop until he reaches his car, hoping that the sound of footsteps echoing behind him is just that.

 “Zayn, wait.” Liam calls out, and Zayn slumps his shoulders, and turns around. “I need to talk to you. Please. ”

“You're wasted, Liam.” Zayn says, aiming for a stern tone, but somehow ending up speaking softly.

“I know. I know, okay? But not drunk enough to not know what I'm saying,” Liam stutters, staggering towards Zayn, his hands flailing around him, almost tripping. Zayn almost steps forward to steady him, but stops himself when Liam finds his balance. Liam’s not going to let whatever it is that he wants to talk about, so Zayn thinks he should at least reduce the awkwardness by allowing minimum contact between the two.

“Sorry”’ Liam mutters, and in any other situation Zayn would find it amusing how Liam’s eyebrows are knitted together in stubborn concentration, willing his feet to keep from wobbling. He comes to stand in front of Zayn, a little too close for comfort, so Zayn steps back, to rest on his car.

 “My answer's no, Zayn. I know- I know you don't want my answer. But I'm not gonna give up on us. I can't. You're the only thing left in my life and I refuse to give it away without a fight. I refuse. I refuse.” Liam whispers, his eyes pleading, soft lips pouting. And Zayn looks away, because whatever their lives have come to, he never wanted to be the person who puts that look on Liam’s face.

“Okay.” He whispers, because Liam won’t accept any other argument he comes up with.

“Okay?” Liam replies, his eyes blinking. “Alright. Okay” Liam moves nearer then, his wounded hand reaching out to touch Zayn’s face. And this time Zayn allows it, just a slight graze of calloused fingers on his cheek, before he shifts, stretching his hand over the taller man’s shoulders, supporting his weight.

“Let's get you home now, yeah?” Zayn offers, leading them to his car.

***

 

All through the ride home, Liam keeps his eyes on Zayn, who’s avoiding looking at him. Zayn is still so beautiful and it hurts to just sit there so close to him, and yet be so far apart. But still, Liam feels quite high, almost vibrant, not just from the alcohol in his system, but also because Zayn’s here, and Zayn somewhat agreed that they might still find a way out of this, and Zayn didn’t back away when he dared to caress his face. And despite the bleeding wound in his hand, the slight throbbing in his head, this one is still going to be one of his favorite nights in a very long time. He almost feels alive again; but most importantly he feels hope. And that’s all he’d ever asked for.

They get out of the car, and Zayn helps him out of the car. Liam doesn’t think he needs the help, but he doesn’t want to stop touching Zayn yet, so he lets the other man drag him to the front door. And for a while, Liam can just pretend that they’re the happy, married couple they used to be, returning home from a night-out.

Liam moves to open the door, keeping one hand clasped in Zayn’s shirt, afraid that this perfect night will end right here. But when the door opens, Zayn moves in with him, guiding him to the couch. Liam slams into it, his body giving in to the sudden fatigue he feels. He can feel Zayn working on his shoes. And he wants to tell Zayn a million things right now, he wants to hold him and keep him, he wants to start over right here, right now, but his eyes aren’t co-operating. He mumbles a soft “Stay” before his tiredness wins over his resolve.

And in the morning, Liam will not remember if the soft brush of lips on his forehead was a cherished memory, a reality or just another rare blissful dream.

 

  ***

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I hope you enjoyed that. And in the next chapter I'll try to hint at what exactly is haunting their pasts. Thank you for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you guys liked it!...Please review!


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